trips

lost paradise

talking about trips don't trip

don't move don't groove

sitting in street poverty such cross

nailing you down in the tomb of

lost paradise eating at your brain

your eyes your infinite holes piercing

the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie

never gave you a penny    what fear they

tumbling down your nameless night

sucked up into the pit of your desire

ever forgetting the laws of herdy life

too dumb too spoilt too bribed

naturally striving to crush you in filthy squares

and let you die in the fire of

your extinguished stare and the why

of hunger gnawing

abandoned in

cardboard bare

just ignored

your ruin

in native rug

dreaming of plains and flapping wings

of eagles white and black plummeting

your body shaking

essential truths

unquenched